So, right off the bat, I have to say that this whole blog-thing you've set up is totally gay. Now I know that being gay and all I really shouldn't use âgayâ in such a derogatory way but what can I say....writing blogs is so damn GAY I can't even discuss it. But this was your idea and you're supposedly straight which makes the whole thing somewhat disturbing actually: that straight-old-you could come up with such a gay-old-idea for keeping in touch over the course of the summer. But I guess there's no accounting for sexuality or something.

And I know I agreed to do this when we talked and everything but still, I just have to let you know my true thoughts on this matter before going any further with this gay exercise in futility. I just don't see why simple e-mail would not suffice. I mean people have been using that since the beginning of time (or the beginning of the Internetâsame difference) as a decent mode of effective, semi-instant communication. So I don't know why you're so set on this blog-o-sphere thing. And why, good God, did you have to go and title the thing ''Tale of Two Summers''? I mean, you make it sound like some friggin' Judy Blume novel!

Now I know your whole rationale for this is that e-mails are disposable and deletable and you want to have a record of our big summer apart so that when we're 30 we can look back on it and be like, man, what a couple of losers we were back in the teenage-day. But believe me, I will not be longing to look back and see what a pair of idiots we were for saving an online record of our every little thought and meaningless activity, especially when, on my end at least, there is really not gonna be much to report. Except, of course, my farting. Wait a secâI feel one coming...[FART]. Ah, much better.

Regardlessâhere is my first entry. Are you happy yet? I'm not. It's Monday night and it's been a crummy first day of you not being here in crappy old Wheaton, Maryland. If there is any place more boring on earth to spend a sweltering summer by my goddamn self I can't think of one. And you know what? If I could think of a place that was more stultifying, I might even go there just for a change of scenery because after almost 16 years, the sheer deadliness of our little 'burb is really starting to bug me out. Then, on top of that, toss into the mix the fact that I had my first day back at good ol' Einstein H.S. for Day One of âDriving Instruction and Road Safety Trainingâ (formerly known as âDrivers Edâ, see 20th Century) and I am clearly about ready to lose it.

I said it to you yesterday in your driveway and I will say it again; you are the luckiest damn dog to go hang out at University of Maryland for the balance of the summer and learn your craft as an actor/singer/waiter. I only wish I had some ounce of talent to join you but, as we all know, my only talent worth mentioning (i.e. farting) is, uh, not worth mentioning. BADUMP-CHIK! Thank you ladies and gentlemen...I'm here all summer. That's right...ALL SUMMER! OKâenough bitching. I can already see you shaking your head at my misanthropic missivery. (Waitâhave I just coined a phrase!?) Still being stuck here all alone for the next six weeks is a major drag, especially given the fact that youâre not really that far away even, just a few miles around the old Beltway. You know I still donât see why I canât just come visit for an afternoon or hang out with you after dinner or something. What is up with UMDâs severe anti-guest policy? They act like Iâm gonna contaminate the whole batch of you with my lack-of-talent and cause an uncontrollable outbreak of averageness or something. But I digressâ�

So I guess Iâll get to the business at hand which is âkeeping in touchâ. Christânow I lost my train of thought. This is why the occasional phone call would be easier!!! They must have a few pay phones there? Oh rightâyou said something about how Iâm uncommunicative on the phone. Well, you know, this was news to me. I think Iâm always pretty forthcoming and chatty on the phone, whether discussing what asshole called me a faggot in the hall that day or giving a recap of the latest heartbreak on The O.C.. So Iâm not sure what you meant by uncommunicative andâwait a second. I get it. NOW youâre gonna say âwell, why didnât you ask me when we were talkingâTHATâS being uncommunicative.â So this was some sort of trap, eh? Wellâall I can say is, dude, that heart-to-heart in the driveway was creeping me out. You actors are so damn emotional sometimes. What is up with that?!

Alright, I keep getting distracted here because it takes so much longer to write some passing thought than to just say it. And since I canât just talk to you, Iâm trying to make this bloody blog work as a one-sided conversation as opposed to some old-fashioned âjournal.â But I will now try to be coherent and cohesive and give you a running account of [insert drum roll here]...

MY FIRST DAY OF SUMMER WITHOUT CHUCK

Our story begins way too bright and much too early with Valerie rousing me at 7:30 for the usual breakfast bonanza of eggs/bacon/bagels/juice/fruitcup/coffee. Fortunately, I managed to decline everything except the juice and, despite my lack of cooperation, she was kind enough to drop me at Einstein on her way to work. It was so weird to be back there in the summer...the place is so damn empty, walking down the halls and actually hearing the sound of your own feet and not the usual stampede of thousands. And guess what? No. No. Sorry, not that either. I wasnât harassed once! The one and only plus of the day.

Our driving class was located just off the main corridor, 115-B. Where we had English last year, âmember? As for the class itself, there are about 20 people enrolled in hell with me, most of whom I donât know because they were kids from the year ahead of us (me being the sage of our class due to my August b-day) and/or they are from other County schools. One person I did know which you will find hi-lar-i-ous is Joey Kelly, from back in da day @ Randolph Elementary? I hadnât seen him since graduation but he still looked the sameâthat is, retarded. Just taller and bigger and, thus, more retarded. Even though he goes to Prep now, Joey is still the same old cheap-ass he was in 8th grade, evidenced by his sponging on the free County-sponsored driving class.
Anyway, Joey was wondering what youâre up to so I told him and he made fun of the whole summer-theatre-camp-thingâwhat a shocker, right? I mean, did Joey ever have a positive reaction to anyoneâs good news...ever? Fortunately, I was able to avoid sitting next to Joey by deftly pretending I knew someone else in the class even though I didnât know a bloody soul. Pretty good acting for an amateur. (Heyâany last minute openings in your improv class?) So I snagged a seat in the back row next to this hot blonde chick named Brett. Have you ever heard of a girl named Brett? Neither had I but she is definitely 100% girl. I know Iâm not supposed to notice these things now that Iâm officially a guy-lover but DAMNâthis girl has got it going on, being majorly stacked and sporting the cutest face Iâve ever seen. You know what? You might even like her except for the fact that she seems like a wicked bad seed. Which, or course, is why I gravitated to her immediately. (Heh-heh...)

Our driving instructor? Uhhhh, not so cute. Itâs this hulking goon who also does time as an assistant coach for the football team...Mr. Tlucek. (Remember him? From your ill-fated year on JV?) OMGâthis guy is such a tool! The first thing he says to us in this deeply serious âI-Am-Godâ voice was this little gem; âListen up people, driving is not a right. Itâs a privilege.â What the hell! I mean, I know itâs not on the Bill of Rights or anything but a âprivilegeâ? I thought it was my right when I turn age 16 in, oh, 28 days, to get my drivers license and finally have the right to get the F out of Wheaton at 70mph without looking back. But I guess I was mistook. At least according to Coach Tlucek.

Anyway, after he drops this line on us with all the seriousness of Moses on the Mount, me and Brett turn to each other, our eyes rolling way up into the back of our heads and start cracking up. Thatâs when I knew we would click. She is a trip! Later, during our break, she said she couldnât give a crap whether driving is a right, a privilege, or a door prize. Sheâs only taking the class to humor her rents and doesnât even want to get a license when sheâs done. Her attitude is like--âwhy should I learn how to drive when boys are gonna take me where I want to go anyway.â I was of half-a-mind to be like, hells yeah...me too! Until, that is, I realized the pool of eligible Einstein homos to shuttle me around the DC metro area is slightly smaller than the one Brettâs working with. (Who'm I kiddingâitâs like nonexistent!) Actually, I even told her this line and she busted out laughing. Check it outâshe didnât seem to mind the whole gay thing at all which was refreshing for a change, right? Go Brett! Yeaaaaa! [Insert queerleaders doing a cheer]

So on that rare, 'campy note' I will end my first entry. I hope all this useless information about my so-called life today in Wheaton (a.k.a. the Black Hole of Suburbia) has truly enlightened you and brought us closer than ever. (Yeah, right.) Thusly, I will sign off, as always your friend, confidante, and troubled soul...Hal.
PSâhave you gotten laid yet at âcollegeâ?

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